by C. J. Archer
“That sounds painful,” I said, smiling.
“Oh, it is. Very painful indeed. He’s so awkward and a terrible bore. I tried to get out of it by feigning a headache but mother is insisting and told me she’ll drag me along, no matter what.” She sighed. “I wish you were coming with me so I had someone amusing to talk to. The first time I met him, he spoke all evening about an archaeological dig he’d been on. He loves antiquities.”
It sounded quite interesting to me, but I suspected she didn’t want to hear that so I merely nodded sympathetically. “And Floyd?”
“You won’t see him. The moment we leave, he’ll be off too. Don’t tell Father, though. I suspect Floyd has told him he’ll be here all evening keeping an eye on things. Not that it’s necessary, with Mr. Armitage always present after his uncle leaves of an evening, but Father likes to think Floyd is in control when he’s not here. So what shall we do for an hour?” she finished.
“Read? Write letters?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps I’ll start getting ready early.”
Harmony’s face appeared around the corner near the stairs. Spying me, she signaled me to join her.
“I think I’ll see what books are in the library,” I said to Flossy.
We walked together to the lift where I left Flossy and headed to the main sitting room that contained the hotel’s library. I waited, dismissing the waiter who asked if I wanted to take a seat, and watched while Flossy got into the lift. As soon as the door closed, I retraced my steps and joined Harmony near the staircase.
“Come to the parlor,” she said. “There’s something you should know.”
“There’s something you should know too,” I said, following her. “I’ve decided to continue investigating. But don’t tell anyone.”
She didn’t break her stride as we made our way to the staff parlor. “I thought you would change your mind, but I didn’t think you’d change it until you heard what I have to tell you.”
“What do you have to tell me?”
She pushed open the door to reveal Victor the cook perched on the edge of a table, flipping his knife in the air. “Victor!” she snapped. “You’re not in the kitchen now.”
Victor slotted the knife into his belt in one continuous motion.
“You’re very skilled with it,” I told him.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I am.”
“Did you learn to do that here?”
“Nope. Found my first knife when I was a boy and taught myself some tricks.”
“Found?” Harmony made a scoffing sound. “Stole it, more likely.”
Victor merely crossed his legs at the ankles and regarded her coolly.
She thrust out her chin. “We have terrible news, Miss Fox. Danny was arrested. They’ve put him in prison!”
“A holding cell at Scotland Yard,” Victor clarified.
“It’s the same thing.”
“No, it ain’t.”
Harmony turned her back to him. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to investigate, after all. We’ll help, of course.” She indicated Victor.
Victor patted a chair back and invited me to sit. “Want some tea while you think?” He indicated a teapot and cups on the table.
“Thank you,” I said.
Harmony poured tea into three cups and Victor handed one to me. “So, where shall you begin?” she asked.
I sipped slowly, gathering my thoughts, then lowered the cup to my lap. The door suddenly opened and Goliath entered. He paused when he saw me.
“Keep moving, you big bloody giraffe,” said someone behind him.
Goliath stepped aside to reveal Frank the doorman. He saw me and flushed.
“Sorry for my language, Miss Fox,” he muttered. “I didn’t see you there.”
I rose. “It’s all right. It’s my fault, I’m intruding. This is your space to relax for a few moments.”
“Please stay,” Harmony said. “Miss Fox is helping investigate the murder,” she informed the men.
“Then you’ve got to stay,” Goliath said. “They arrested Danny.”
“The police will find the killer,” Frank told him.
“The police will find whoever the most convenient suspect is,” Harmony said darkly. “They want this wrapped up quickly and quietly. I know all too well what the police are like, Frank.”
“Mr. Hobart won’t let his brother convict Danny. Have some faith, Harmony.”
She sniffed. “It doesn’t hurt to have another mind investigating. Miss Fox is clever. Have faith in her, Frank.”
If Mr. Armitage weren’t their immediate superior, I would have told them my suspicions about him and my doubts that his father would investigate thoroughly if he knew his son killed Mrs. Warrick. I wouldn’t tell anyone my suspicions until I was absolutely sure, however.
I sat again as Goliath poured himself a cup of tea.
Victor withdrew his knife from his belt. “Are the journalists gone? Want me to go out there and frighten them off?”
“Two constables are outside now,” Frank said. “That got rid of all but a few determined ones. Mr. Armitage said me and Goliath can take ten minutes in here while he helps defend the fort outside.”
“Looks like he and Mr. Hobart convinced those guests to stay too,” Goliath said.
“Probably by telling them the killer had been caught,” Harmony said with a glare at each man. “Mark my words, they’re going to blame Danny. I don’t want to see my friend hang for something he didn’t do. Do you?”
Frank shuffled his feet and shook his head.
Goliath puffed out his chest. “No, ma’am, I do not.”
Victor ran the blade edge along his finger. “So what do we do next, Miss Fox?”
They all stared at me. How had I become their great hope? I’d done nothing to deserve it except show an inquisitive nature. Harmony seemed to have decided that I could be trusted to find the truth, but I wasn’t sure what that decision was based upon.
It could simply be because I was a relative of the hotel owner. I could access places the staff could not, and talk to people who wouldn’t give Harmony the time of day.
“The police are at a disadvantage,” I told them. “They’re not allowed to question the guests, but I think the guests should be questioned. Some of them, at least. For one thing, someone might have seen Mrs. Warrick during the evening, or could have witnessed Danny speaking to her when he brought the hot chocolate.”
Harmony sat forward on the chair. “I did discover something that may be of use. It answers the question as to why the police are asking everyone where they were in the early evening and late afternoon. I found out that none of the waiters remembered seeing Mrs. Warrick in the dining room. Nor could Mr. Chapman find her name in his book. He notes down guest names and room numbers when they arrive,” she told me. “The cost of the meal is added to their final list of expenses to be paid when they check out.”
“No meal was delivered to her room, either,” Victor added. “I checked after I spoke to you this morning, Miss Fox.”
“Could she have dined out?” I asked.
“She didn’t leave the hotel,” Frank said.
Goliath pointed his teacup at Frank. “Maybe you were looking the other way when she passed.”
Frank’s lips pursed. “I notice everybody. Not a single soul can get past me.”
“That journalist got past you today.”
“No one can get past me unnoticed. Unless Mrs. Warrick used a disguise, she didn’t leave the hotel.”
Harmony nodded thoughtfully. “A disguise is a distinct possibility. But why employ one?”
The door opened and Peter walked in with one of the maids. I recognized her as the young woman who’d endured a scolding from Mrs. Kettering in the stairwell. She paused when she saw me and bobbed a hasty curtsy. Harmony introduced her as Edith.
“I really shouldn’t be in here,” I said, rising. “I don’t want to get in your way.”
“You ain’t in
the way,” Victor said, pushing a spare chair towards Edith.
She slid onto it, her head bowed, hands in her lap.
“Miss Fox is helping solve the murder,” Harmony explained.
I winced. I wished she’d stop announcing it.
“Edith discovered Mrs. Warrick’s body this morning.”
“How awful for you,” I said. “Shouldn’t you go home and rest? You’ve endured quite a shock.”
Edith looked up, her eyes huge. They were her best feature, particularly when she blinked innocently like that. If it weren’t for her big blue-gray eyes she’d be a little plain. I’d thought her young, but now that I got a proper look at her face, I could see the telltale signs of age at the corners of her mouth and eyes. She must be near thirty.
“I’m all right, thank you, Miss Fox. I’d rather be working. So you don’t think Danny did it?”
“No,” chimed several voices as one.
“I’m so glad you’re going to help him,” she told me. “But who do you think poisoned Mrs. Warrick?”
“I’m not sure. But we need to keep this investigation between ourselves,” I told them all. “Don’t tell the senior staff, or any other staff, unless it will help us find answers. Edith, are you up to talking about the body? It’s all right if you’re not.”
“Do you think it will help free Danny?”
“It might.”
She drew in a fortifying breath and let it out slowly. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what you told the detective inspector about your movements before and after discovering Mrs. Warrick.”
“I was delivering her tea at seven this morning, as I have done ever since she arrived. She has a regular order, you see; tea delivered at seven by a maid, not a footman. She doesn’t want men seeing her in her nightgown.”
“A regular order, just like her cup of hot chocolate,” I said.
Edith nodded. “I knocked on her door, but there was no answer. I’m sure I knocked loudly enough because I awoke the gentleman in the room directly across the corridor. He came out and picked up the newspaper that had been left by his door. I knocked on Mrs. Warrick’s door again, then when there was still no answer, I used my key.”
“Is it usual for you to enter with your own key?”
“Not very, but I just thought she was in a deep sleep. I didn’t want to leave the tea at the door because I know she likes it hot. It was only in a cup with a cloth cover, not a pot and it would have gone cold very quickly.”
“Do you always carry keys to all the rooms you deliver tea to in the mornings?”
“Just for the rooms I clean.”
“Tell me what happened after you stepped into her room.”
“I put the cup down on the table beside the empty pot of chocolate, opened the curtains, and turned around to greet Mrs. Warrick. That’s when I saw her…covered in her own sick.” She shuddered and clutched her throat. “It was awful. I’ll never sleep tonight with the memory of her ghastly face in my mind.”
Harmony touched Edith’s hand, and Goliath squeezed her shoulder.
“I came straight outside and told the other guest still reading his paper that Mrs. Warrick looked dead. He went into her room to check while I ran to tell Mrs. Kettering.”
The poor girl. No wonder her hands still shook. I wasn’t sure I’d still be able to work if I’d discovered a dead body just that morning.
“You mentioned you have a key to the rooms you clean,” I said. “Who else has access to room keys?”
“Mr. Hobart and Mrs. Kettering each have a master set of keys,” Peter said. “If a guest loses their room key, I have to ask one of them to unlock the door. It doesn’t happen often.”
“Mr. Armitage doesn’t have keys?”
“He uses Mr. Hobart’s set if the need arises.”
“Who do you think could have murdered her?” Goliath asked. “She was at the hotel alone, wasn’t she?”
Peter nodded. “She checked in two days ago. I recall her saying she was looking forward to the ball and seeing old friends.”
“Had any of those old friends arrived yet?” I asked him.
“I don’t know.”
“Peter, do you recall yesterday afternoon when Mr. Armitage spoke to a gentleman beside the Christmas tree? There was another man also nearby, reading the newspaper.”
“Just after you and Miss Bainbridge came out of the sitting room?” Peter nodded. “I remember.”
“He doesn’t miss anyone,” Goliath said with a smirk at Frank.
Frank looked like he wanted to retort, but he pursed his lips and hunched his shoulders. Goliath chuckled into his teacup.
“The man Mr. Armitage spoke to is Mr. Hookly, room five-oh-five,” Peter said. “Nice fellow, cheerful, receives a lot of parcels from various shops. The one reading the newspaper was Mr. Duffield, second son of a second son of an earl, or something like that. Bit of a snob but doesn’t give us any trouble. He’s staying on the third floor.”
The same level as Mrs. Warrick. “Do you know what they’re doing in London?”
Peter shrugged. “They came for the ball, I suspect. They must have decided to come a few days early. The unmarried ones without family like to spend Christmas Day here.”
“Do you know anything about where they’re from? What they do for a living?”
“No, but I can find out their addresses. Everyone has to leave one when they check in. It’s recorded in the reservation book.”
“If you could get them for me, that would be marvelous.”
“Why?” Goliath asked. “What have these men got to do with Mrs. Warrick’s murder?”
“She recognized one of them, but I don’t know which.” I didn’t tell him that she could have been referring to Mr. Armitage. If I did, would these staff defend their superior’s honor? “It could mean nothing,” I went on. “It’s just a line of inquiry I want to follow.”
“You’re very thorough,” Harmony said, taking my empty cup and placing it on the tray.
Edith suddenly got to her feet with a gasp. “Look at the time. I’d better return to work.”
Harmony glanced at the small clock beside a stack of periodicals on the shelf. “I thought you’d finished for the day, like me.”
“Mrs. Kettering asked me to do something for her.”
“Or are you really going off to see your beau?” Goliath asked with a wink.
Edith blushed and lowered her head.
“Leave her be,” Harmony scolded.
Frank plucked the empty teacup from Goliath’s fingers. “Just because no one loves you, Goliath, there’s no need to be jealous of those of us with paramours.”
“Those of us?” Goliath snorted. “I don’t see women lining up outside the hotel to get a look at your ugly mug.”
Frank placed the teacups down with a loud clatter. “Nor yours.”
Edith opened the door to go, but I laid a hand on her arm. She jumped. “Speaking of Mrs. Kettering,” I said gently, “remember not to breathe a word of my investigation to her. Or to anyone.”
“I won’t, and certainly not to that dragon.” Edith put more spirit into the word than she had the rest of her words combined.
“That was unexpected,” Harmony said with a laugh after Edith departed.
Victor threw one of his knives in the air and caught it. “Calling someone a dragon seems normal to me. From the way Mrs. Kettering talks to you girls, I’m surprised someone hasn’t poisoned her. I’d wager you’ve dreamed about it on more than one occasion.”
“You are a strange man.” She picked up the tray and shoved it into his chest, choosing the moment between him catching the knife and tossing it again. “Take this back to the kitchen. This girl has finished for the day.”
Victor steadied the tray as Harmony marched out of the parlor. “What’d I say to deserve that?”
I spotted Mr. Hookly while I sat in one of the chairs in the foyer, pretending to read a book. He emerged from the lift and headed fo
r the smoking room. I followed five minutes later, the book tucked under my arm.
There were only three gentlemen in the smoking room and all looked up upon my entry. The two elderly smokers held cigars while the third, Mr. Hookly, stood side-on to the fireplace, a slender cigarette dangling between his fingers. One of the cigar smokers gave me such a look of disgust that I wanted to run from the room. The second shook his head, as if my presence saddened him. Only Mr. Hookly welcomed me.
“May I try one of those?” I asked, setting my book on the mantelpiece and pointing to his cigarette.
“Of course.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a silver case.
I removed one of the cigarettes and held it between thumb and forefinger while he lit it for me. He watched, smiling, as I placed it between my lips.
“You’re supposed to inhale,” he said, his smile widening.
I inhaled and promptly coughed as the smoke hit the back of my throat.
Mr. Hookly poured a sherry from the decanter on the sideboard and handed the glass to me. I gratefully sipped and the coughing eased.
“First time?” he asked.
“How can you tell?”
He chuckled. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.” He glanced pointedly at the two older gentlemen mumbling around the cigars plugged into their mouths. Considering the only women who smoked were prostitutes or some of the more extreme activists for the women’s emancipation movement, it wasn’t surprising they looked upon me as an aberration. To them, my presence in their masculine domain was either an act of defiance or promiscuity.
I wondered what Mr. Hookly thought of me. From his smiles, I gathered he realized I was neither and that smoking was a new endeavor. Considering my second inhalation produced another round of coughs, it was an easy conclusion to draw.
“So which is it, Miss…?”
“Fox.” I held out my hand and he shook it, introducing himself as Mr. Hookly. “Perhaps I’m a brave fool,” I said. “Or simply adventurous.”
He acknowledged this with a shallow bow. “So now that we’ve established why you’re in the smoking room, tell me what brings you to The Mayfair. You don’t look like their typical guest.”